


Might As Well

by quiet__tiger



Category: Smallville
Genre: Crack, F/F, Femslash, Gender or Sex Swap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 22:10:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10649049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: Oliver makes Clark make the best of an awkward situation.





	Might As Well

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers/Continuity: Season 7ish? Makes reference to past Clark/Lana and Oliver/Lois.
> 
> Enjoy this for what it is: pure crack. 
> 
> Originally posted to Livejournal Jul. 4th, 2008.

“What are we supposed to _do_?” Clark crossed his arms over his well-developed chest.

“Nothing. Just let the effects wear off.” Oliver flopped down onto his couch, determined not to freak out.

“But... but...” Clark uncrossed his arms, gestured with his hand, then changed his mind and covered his chest again.

“ _Sit_.” Finally Clark listened, and joined Oliver on the couch.

Earlier that day while on a mission for the tentatively named Justice League, they’d discovered a small cache of pretty purple minerals. Not realizing it was Kryptonite, they’d dug through to find nice pieces to decorate the penthouse and the loft.

Bad idea.

After a few minutes they’d both experienced weird sensations and blacked out, and when they woke up, AC, Bart, and Vic standing over them, it became apparent that the purple Kryptonite changed their genders.

Clark and Oliver were now girls.

When the crew realized they were okay, there was hysterical laughter from all three of them, and then more when Vic was finally able to tell Chloe what was so damn funny and she cackled into the communicator.

Balance shot to hell due to changes in their centers of gravity, they called the mission off. Clark and Oliver were now secluded in Oliver’s penthouse waiting for the effects to wear off.

Hoping the effects would wear off.

Clark turned to him, pretty feminine face full of worry, big blue eyes wide. “What if it stays this way? Usually the effects of Kryptonite go away when I’m not in contact with it. But we got rid of it all.”

“It’ll wear off.” Oliver hoped. He liked being a guy. And seeing Clark as a girl was weirding him out a little. The face was the same, almost, lips _definitely_ the same but somehow even more tantalizing, and his body slimmer except for his hips. His voice was higher, and his hands were smaller. He was still tall, though, and still had the broad shoulders.

Oliver wasn’t sure how he looked; he’d been described as a pretty man, and was a little disturbed at the thought of seeing himself as a female. What if he wasn’t _as_ pretty?

Oliver thought he was handling the change pretty well, though his voice sounded odd to his ears and he was concerned about when he had to pee—would it be weird? Clark, however, was not comfortable in his own skin on an average day, let alone when his skin covered a different body. Their ill-fitting men’s clothing didn’t help; their costumes didn’t fit at all, and their regular clothes just weren’t cut right.

It would probably be hotter if they wore each other’s clothes, instead of their own. Oliver had found it hot when Lois walked around his apartment in one of his shirts. Then again, she was hot anyway.

Though such a different breed from Clark, whom he’d been fooling around with for a couple of months, unbeknown to the rest of the team.

His thoughts about Clark and his unique brand of attractiveness were ended by Clark’s whine. “What am I supposed to do with these?” He cupped his breasts theatrically. “I don’t even _like_ boobs.”

“You are the gayest straight man I know. I’ve never known anyone to run away from all tits but Lana’s.” Oliver cocked his head. “Though I guess we found out you’re not all that straight.”

Clark scowled at him, pretty, feminine eyebrows bunching together. “You try living in the Midwest. See how it brainwashes you into being normal when you aren’t.”

Not wanting to get into how sick Clark’s relationship with Lana really was, Oliver just focused on the situation in front of them. “Liking people of the same sex isn’t abnormal, Clark.” He groped at his own breasts, which were smaller than Clark’s. “ _This_ , now, _this_ is abnormal.”

“What are we going to do until it goes away? Assuming it does and I don’t have to change my name to Clara or something.” Clark scratched at his head like a guy. Well, he was a guy, even had the same haircut and everything, just... His hardware got switched out.

Oliver shot Clark the Look that had gotten Clark into bed the first time, and had worked every time he tried it since. Slightly teasing, slightly leering, slightly predatory.

“I know what you’re doing, Oliver, Olivia, whatever, and it’s not working.”

“What?”

“We’re not... doing that like this.”

“Why not? I like women, you’re a woman...”

“You also like men, which I usually am.”

“You like women... sort of.”

“I liked _you_ as a _guy_. Broad shoulders, tight ass, sexy smile, biceps to die for?”

“I still have all those things. I just don’t have my dick.” And boy, was he missing it right now. If Clark was reluctant to fool around, jerking off a little in front of him was a shortcut through his hesitation. And it was odd feeling horny and not being hard. He was just... he wasn’t even sure. Tingly. Maybe a little wet.

“I _like_ your dick.”

“Me, too.” Oliver stared at Clark, trying to picture him in his one of his dress shirts instead of that awful flannel shirt he was wearing. It was making him hornier. He shifted closer to Clark and faced him squarely, then ran one hand up Clark’s thigh.

“No.”

“You don’t even want to make out a little? I’m still me, you’re still you. And you’ve told me numerous times I’m a good kisser.”

“Lois liked me better.”

Oliver scowled. “Let’s not talk about Lois.” He saw a small flash of guilt flit across Clark’s face, and he took advantage of the moment to wrap a hand around Clark’s head and pull him in for a kiss. Clark felt and tasted exactly the same as he always had, which was a great comfort in the odd situation.

Clark moaned into his mouth, then got more aggressive, his tongue eager and skilled in Oliver’s mouth. Oliver found himself on his back, his and Clark’s new breasts pressed together and definite wetness leaking between his thighs. Normally he’d thrust his cock up into Clark, but he _couldn’t_ and he didn’t know what to _do_ for himself. But if Clark gave him half a chance, maybe they could work together...

He slid a hand between them and down the front of Clark’s jeans. His fingertips grazed pubic hair until Clark realized what he was doing, and half a second later he was up and at the other end of the couch, pretty face pink and flushed, chest heaving. “Clark, come on, you’re not a virgin.”

“What does that matter? And I’m a virgin as a girl.”

Oliver rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh so deep it hurt. “Me, too. But it’s not like I want to _hurt_ you. And I know what I’m doing. Aren’t you a little bit curious about what it feels like for women during sex?”

“No.”

“You’re such a caveman.”

“Not everyone is a playboy.”

Oliver shook his head. “Come on, Clark. If you won’t let me play with you, will you help satisfy my curiosity?”

“You want me to... do... what?”

Oliver closed his eyes. He spared a moment to pity Clark and Lana’s sex life, then opened his eyes to look at Clark again. “Finger me, go down on me, _something_. I’m _horny_.”

“You’re _always_ horny.” Clark crossed his arms over his breasts again. “Your problem is that you’re too used to getting what you want.”

“I always get what I want.”

“Exactly.”

Deciding to just skip a few steps, Oliver stood and stripped. His button-down shirt, jeans, and boxers landed in a pile on the floor, and he stood in front of Clark self-consciously for the first time since the first time. He watched Clark swallow. “You like what you see, Clark?”

“No... Maybe. It’s _weird_.”

Oliver straddled Clark’s lap, feeling oddly open and exposed in his new body. Knees splayed over Clark’s thighs, he leaned in close. “I’m still me. Oliver. Look at my eyes, they haven’t changed, have they?”

He looked into Clark’s eyes; his hadn’t changed. They were still deep and blue and warm and a tad confused. The eyebrows above them were just a bit more shapely.

After what seemed like an eternity of Clark’s scrutiny, including him squinting slightly to see through him, Clark nodded once, slowly. “You’re you.”

Oliver grinned. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say.” He wiggled his fingers in Clark’s face. “Even have the same calluses.”

Clark still didn’t respond, so Oliver took matters into his own hands. Matters, Clark’s tits... Same difference.

He unbuttoned Clark’s shirt, and pushed up the undershirt that was underneath. Lacking proper undergarments, Clark’s chest wasn’t constrained, just right there in front Oliver’s face. He had to reach down and lick. Had to. Around the areola and Clark flinched. He sucked on him and Clark shuddered again. He wondered if Clark was this sensitive as a guy. Now that the idea was in his head he couldn’t wait to find out.

Finally, _finally_ Clark got naked, speeding out of his shirts and pants and boxers until he was naked under Oliver’s hands. Sexy narrow waste down to shapely rounded hips, and Oliver wondered if he might be going fully straight again but then remembered that he wanted this girl’s body because it was _Clark_ , and he wanted Clark. Dick or tits.

He stroked one of Clark’s breasts, and Clark’s eyes shut. He squeezed one more time, finding having smaller hands advantageous. He trailed one hand down Clark’s stomach, the skin softer than it normally was. Down to his pubic hair, wiry like it usually was.

He hadn’t been with a woman since Lois, and that had been a while ago, but sex really was like riding a bike, and soon with his fingers and tongue he had Clark writhing on the couch. He had two fingers buried inside, surrounded by wet and hot.

Clark’s nipples were peaked and he was riding Oliver’s fingers so hard he was having trouble keeping them in there. Up and down, up and down... Maybe it was Oliver’s imagination but Clark seemed more into this than when he was fingering his ass. Was there a mental block there, even still?

“ _Oliver_...” His voice was high, reedy, _needy_... Oliver adjusted his grip and pressed his thumb against Clark’s clit, making Clark moan louder. It was all fascinating to Oliver, watching someone obviously so sensitive get pushed that much further. Clark had his eyes closed tightly, and there was a beautiful grimace of pleasure on his feminine features. “ _Oliver_...”

“Let go, Clark. It’s okay...” He couldn’t think of why it wouldn’t be, but this was Clark, who even on the best of days confused the hell out of Oliver. It wasn’t as if Clark didn’t know he liked fingers, or Oliver’s cock, inside of him. Why would it be different now?

Maybe it was, and _he_ was the freak in this relationship.

Then he could feel Clark’s body tightening around him as he started to come. His breath caught in his throat as he shuddered, wave after wave, female come pouring over the fingers Oliver had pressed up into his G-spot. He carefully took them out when Clark seemed to be done twitching.

Clark grabbed loosely at his wrist and grinned at him, that happy, sated grin only worn by people who’d just come their brains out. “I guess now I know why Lana always wanted this.”

Olive raised his eyebrows. “Better than as a guy?” He found that hard to believe; he’d had Clark wearing that dopey grin before.

“Different.”

“Help me find out.”

After a minute or two for Clark to get himself back together, or at least mobile, Oliver stretched out so that Clark had space to play. He wanted to give him free reign to touch him however he wanted. He was curious as to what Clark would do, skittish as he was around all females but Chloe, Lana, and Lois.

Clark... looked. He did a lot of looking. Light touches here, sliding his thumb there... “ _Do_ something, Clark.”

“I’m X-raying you to see where your nerves go.”

What?

Before Oliver could ask Clark to explain himself—did he really not know where a girl’s body was sensitive? He’d just come all over Oliver’s hand—he went in with his tongue. He pulled back to say, “I could do this with Lana without worrying about hurting her,” then dived right back in.

Oliver didn’t care about Lana, hadn’t even when he knew her, and he ignored Clark’s comment when that warm, agile tongue was back on his clit. Clark really was good; maybe there was something to following nerve endings.

Then there were fingers inside him, dry until Clark pulled them out and slicked them with his spit. Then they were back inside, and they weren’t doing much, Clark obviously wasn’t as confident here, but maybe it was okay. It let him focus on Clark’s tongue and where it was teasing him.

Completely different than a blow job. He wasn’t sure yet if it was better or not. The fingers inside of him definitely felt better. There wasn’t anywhere near as much pain as in his ass as a guy. And it was nice not having to smell the lube or have it sliding over him.

Clark was decent at giving head, and pretty darn good here. Oliver felt hot, felt heat throughout his core, and twinges of pleasure, bolts of it, and his body twitched around Clark. He wondered how sensitive his own nipples were, and reached up to find out.

Surprised at how much he liked the feeling of them being pinched, he did it again, over and over. He squeezed his thighs around Clark’s head, felt him chuckle against him. “What?”

The pleasant wet heat left him as Clark answered, “I’m not used to seeing you so needy. You’re usually all calm and collected and... _suave_ about it. But now you’re loose and sounding... desperate.”

“It _feels_ good.” And he wasn’t doing much of the work. Didn’t know how. Was that the difference? Usually Oliver was in charge, initiating sex, doing a lot of the work. He usually knew what to expect, what he was going to feel. Not that he and Clark were in some kind of rut, but Clark was still wary of his strength and his powers so he wasn’t all that aggressive. Apparently he wasn’t worried here.

And... what the hell? The fingers inside him started vibrating, and so did Clark’s tongue... Just when he thought it probably wouldn’t get better it _did_. Bolt of pleasure again, then more, building, building, until his body tightened and then was pushed further and he came, toes curling as he shuddered.

When he finally calmed down, feet flat on the floor once again, he saw that Clark was sitting back on his heels and looking at him. “What?”

“You liked that?”

Oliver shrugged, the motion hard to do from his position on the couch. “You’re good. And the vibrating—you’ve got to do that again when we’re guys.”

“Never occurred to me.”

Oliver shook his head. “And it’s all so new. No tolerance.”

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other for a few moments. Tapered eyebrows furrowing as he frowned, Clark finally asked, “What if we don’t change back?”

“Then we learn to live as women. Change our costumes, get new identities.” He reached out to Clark, and he took his hand and followed the tug to pull him onto the couch. Clark settled on top of him as they fit themselves together, a task more awkward than it normally was. Oliver squeezed Clark’s ass as he continued his answer, “Get some vibrators.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” He stroked a hand through Clark’s hair. “We’ll be fine. We have each other. And the team. And we’re still ourselves.”

“Yeah.”

They didn’t talk anymore, just enjoyed each other and the closeness. It was weird, absolutely, but there were worse things to happen to either of them. And the sex was good already, and they’d only done it once.

Maybe before they changed back, they’d get the chance to work towards multiple orgasms.

Might as well take advantage of the situation.


End file.
